we're always running scared but holding knives
There isn't any pain, and gods if that isn't a source of frustration for Isla. She almost wants it; she wants the pleasure to be so much that it hurts, but alas she'll have to make do for Sunjata's (more than adequate) efforts. A breath she doesn't need hitches in her chest as is thrusts become rough and unrelenting, the medic shifting beneath the Flood to allow him to hook her leg over his shoulder.
The pounding feel of him inside her and the press of his thumb against her clit has a mounting pleasure already beginning to build deep at her core, and Isla does her best to meet each buck of his hips. "Fuck, right there," she moans as he manages to find her precise rhythm, the medic leaning up to press her lips against the side of his neck, her teeth just barely threatening to break the skin. "Don't fucking stop--"
The pounding feel of him inside her and the press of his thumb against her clit has a mounting pleasure already beginning to build deep at her core, and Isla does her best to meet each buck of his hips. "Fuck, right there," she moans as he manages to find her precise rhythm, the medic leaning up to press her lips against the side of his neck, her teeth just barely threatening to break the skin. "Don't fucking stop--"
Isla
